


anything less than

by moon_rabbito



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: BDSM, Begging, Bisexual Male Character, Boot Worship, Cock & Ball Torture, Death Threats, Desperate, Dildos, Dubious Consent, Envy being a lil shit, Exhibitionism, Foreskin Play, Hotdogging, Humiliation, Knifeplay, M/M, Masturbation, Mild Blood, Mirrors, Mustang OOC but this is in Envy's head soooo, Name-Calling, PIV, Precum, Sexual Fantasy, Shame, Switching, Tears, Trans Male Character, Uncircumcised Penis, Verbal Humiliation, but it's mild i swear, but it's written ambiguously enough so that it could be anal, calling him sir, dubcon, injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-08-23 17:35:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16623404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moon_rabbito/pseuds/moon_rabbito
Summary: envy's had a rough week. time to relax with shame and humiliation.





	anything less than

**Author's Note:**

> CN: Envy here is a trans guy and I describe his genitals. There's also some dubcon 
> 
> Define me with long hair and cheap wine  
> Refine me to slurred lines and blank stares  
> Define me with long hair and cigarettes  
> Don't chalk me up to anything less than sin  
> -Sorority Noise, “Your Soft Blood”

It’s his night off, and his second bottle of wine, and even then, Envy can’t relax. He holds he dusty greenish glass between second and middle finger, and leans down to put the bottle on the floor. This inglorious, unenviable hovel is somewhere he’s snuck away to when he doesn’t want to be disturbed. There’s holes in the floorboards. Water damage to the ceiling. The wood-burning stove just about works, and chrrs quietly in the corner. There are framed photographs on the walls of the sitting room, where Envy’s lounging on the single remotely luxurious piece of furniture: a plump Chesterfield that at one point may have been maroon with gold accents around the terminals. Who the people are in the photos, Envy doesn’t give a shit. They’ve long gone, anyway. The wine is shit, too sweet for him, but he picks up the bottle and drinks greedily. After wiping his mouth dry with the back of his hand, he lies back in the chair, trying to find somewhere comfortable to put his feet -- maybe over one arm, maybe curled up under himself, maybe both of them on the floor like a straight person. A flame licks out of the stove. In his slow, half-drunk mind, a mind that’s been too taxed with all these other people’s meaningless problems, he thinks of that stallion of a man, that achingly handsome Roy Mustang, him with his loyal Lieutenants, him with his mastery over fire, him riddled with weakness.

 

_ He imagines him here, in the very chair in which he’s sitting, still in his uniform, wrists thoughtfully fractured and gloves hung up, so there’d be no chance of any premature salvos of heat. He imagines him otherwise entirely alone in the room, just the two of them, with Mustang trying  to maintain some form of composure, some possibility of control over the situation. He says that Hawkeye is on her way, and Envy just laughs. She’s not, he knows she’s not, they both do. Why, she’s dealing with problems of her own on the far side of town. There’s nobody coming to get him. Especially with how bad his relationship is with the top brass in Central. Envy waits for that moment to sink in, for that glazed look to come over Mustang’s eyes when he realizes it too. Ah, but Mustang is his guest, it’d be so rude to let his honoured guest feel bad, especially since they were having such a grand time. Envy thinks about changing form into something that he knows would fill Mustang with arousal and shame. But somehow, he knows that staying in his present form would do just that, and maybe even more. _

 

His breath begins to stick in his throat. Hands trembling, he starts to undo his shorts. He’s not jerked off for weeks. It’d started interfere with his work, and had almost resulted in him deciding that he’d take on a certain form to convince the Trade Minister to sign a certain treaty  in a way that didn’t involve intimidation. 

 

_ He thinks about how Mustang would react to having his ruined, impotent hand cupped around Envy’s ass, in those silky-tight shorts. How his shock, pain and arousal would swim together in his eyes and vie for supremacy. How weak, how pathetic humans are! But also to be this close to ignition, so close to these hands that ignited a thousand souls...and yet so far. The danger was exciting. If he made one false move, Mustang could get his gloves and then it’d be all over. Even with one glove on, it’d be enough to make Envy pay. Maybe, maybe if Mustang behaved, he wouldn’t die. He sits down on the bigger man’s lap and grinds against him, smirking over his shoulder at the Flame Alchemist, making him understand for certain just how much Envy’s enjoying this show of  _ attempting _ not to be aroused, not to get hard. Oh what a shame it would be for those smart dress uniform trousers to get dirtied. He -- Mustang -- is desperate, screwing up his face, biting his lip, trying to draw himself out of the experience, trying to think of unsexy things, but the feeling of Envy’s ass against his crotch is just too good. Once he’s good and hard, Envy gets up. He spins around to relish Mustang’s valiant disguise of what was certainly a puppy-dog look of desperation. No matter. Envy unbuckles Mustang’s belt, keeping eye contact all the while. He draws out his cock, hard, uncut and glistening. Envy dips his tongue along the top, making sure to brush along the mouth of the urethra, feeling Mustang squirm around him and swallow yells. Envy teases the between the foreskin and the glans with his tongue, getting dizzy himself with just how much he wants the thing inside him. Had he not broken Mustang’s wrists, maybe he’d be able to guide Envy’s tongue and mouth in this endeavour. Oh well, small loss. _

 

He’s slick now, ready for it, but he thinks he’ll hold out on using the false tool quite yet. His messy shorts are around one ankle, hanging gaudy as a whore’s handbag, over one arm of the chair. If anyone sees him now, he’d...he’d…. Envy flushes deep . The idea of being interrupted was so stupid, so fucking human, but so deliciously shameful. He, Envy the Jealous, caught with pants literally around his ankles, pathetically masturbating in his disgusting hovel. He wants to be sick, but it’s a good kind of sick, the type of vertigo from a fairground ride.

 

_ Now he’s leaning across one of the dejected Alchemist’s knees, cock in hand, giving it affectionate little licks. Mustang’s resigned to this now. He knows that there’s no way out but through. He jumps up again -- or tries to, in reality he just shrugs and lolls -- in fear when Envy produces a claw-shaped dagger and holds the cold metal flat against the side of his penis. When Envy angles it against him, he winces, and little pinpricks of blood emerge. Envy brings it to the head of his cock and holds the two as though he was going to hull a strawberry. Despite that Mustang is limp in fear, he’s still  dripping pre and it takes all Envy’s feeble restraint to hold back from putting it in his mouth. Mustang looks down with utter disgust at him, who’s actually drooling, and says in as strong a voice as he can,  _

__ _ “You’re absolutely fucking disgusting. Degenerate filth. I’d expect nothing less from a useless homonculus. You’re getting turned on by this? Of course a monster like you would.” _

 

Envy imagines these words leaving Mustang’s mouth and can’t help but to let out something between a gasp and a moan. He starts rubbing the length of the false tool against himself, getting it ready. 

 

__ _ “While you were all but gagging over my cock,” he sneers, “I’ve got my gloves back.” _

Fuck,  _ thinks Envy. He’s truly at his mercy now. Any false move and he’d be toast. The knife clatters away.  _

_ “You know,” _ _ the Flame Alchemist lords, “I think instead of killing you on the spot, I’ll have a little fun.” _

_ And then soon Envy finds himself cleaning the top of Mustang’s boot with his tongue, tasting the leather, the bootblack,  residual gunpowder and wax. He’s doing this before Mustang allows him to frot against them because Mustang doesn’t want to get his boots filthy. Of course, he’s going to be forced to lick up whatever mess he makes.  Of course. He hates him so much, but if he doesn’t call him Sir, if he doesn’t yield to his every order, if he doesn’t follow him to the letter, Mustang will burn him. This was all explained once he got his gloves back. It was simple, so simple, and so fucking hot _ .  _ He wants to cry with how shameful this is. Defeated by his own horniness, by his own stupidity. He was Envy!  He was supposed to crush this pitiful man, utterly destroy him in every way, first drain him of semen and then of blood, and leave him somewhere for his beloved Hawkeye-chui to find, but now he was licking the man’s boots while his wavering hand inched towards the top of his shorts, so that he could-- _

__ _ “I didn’t say you could do that.” _

__ __ _ “I’m sorry, S-sir.” _

__ _ “Do you want me to stick my hand up your cunt and burn you from the inside?” _

__ __ _ “It’ll never, I promise I won’t touch myself without your say-so, Sir!” _

_ Oh, calling Mustang “Sir” makes  him hate himself even more. What’s worse was that his threat was hot also.  _

_ Once he can see his face in it, Mustang permits him to have some small relief. Envy wraps both arms around his knee and rabidly, desperately, pitifully humps his hard black boot. His mouth hangs open, slack-jawed, like a fucking idiot, but it feels too good. He  _ does _ make a mess of the boot, ruining all of his hard work, mashing the sodden crotch of his shorts against it, and he’s most of his way to some quivery, swear-word laden bliss when Mustang reminds him who exactly is in charge here. It was, after all, Envy who kidnapped Mustang, who took his gloves, who tied him up, who broke his wrists, who decided that fucking the hostage was a good idea, so he owes him at least something.  _

_ He orders Envy to produce a mirror. Fortunately, there’s one in the next room. It’s a little dusty, like everything in this awful place, but it’ll do. Envy wheels it in front of the Chesterfield where Mustang’s sitting.  _

__ _ “Now here’s what’s going to happen: I know you love this pretty, boy-girl form you’re in, how svelte you are in it. I want you to transform yourself into something ugly. Something that reflects what you really are inside.” _

 

_ “I find it interesting how you act so superior to humans yet you take our shape, crave our touch. You hate us, think that we’re as good as animals, mindless, weak, emotional cattle for you to use and manipulate. You think we’re so worthless, yet here you are, wet and horny and desperate, in a human form, craving human dick.” Mustang punctuated his statement with his forearm pressed against Envy’s neck. Envy could make out a hint of his thumbnail despite the gloves. He shivered.  _

_ “Jealous whore-munculus takes on a pretty boy-girl human appearance hoping to cast a wider net. I can’t help but wonder what you really look like without all the power of your Philosopher’s stone.” Envy shuddered at the thought of Mustang seeing his true form stripped of all energy. Gods forbid he ever sees it. That would be too much, even for Envy. _

__ _ “Why don’t you tell me how much you need my cock, and maybe I’ll grace you with it. I want you to look yourself in the mirror and tell us both how much of a failure you really are.” _

__ __ _ “I…” he starts, “I never felt complete until I touched a human in a sexual way. There was always something missing, some aspect about pretending to be a shaved ape that I didn’t understand. And that all changed when I first sucked a cock.”  The words came acrid out of his mouth, as though a small wormlike appendage could make  _ him _ feel whole. “And now I’m…” _

__ _ “You’re so empty that this is the only way you can get filled?” _

_ He nods. He can’t speak anymore.  _

_ “Say it.” says Mustang. _

_ He tries. He tries. But the words can’t come out. He stares at the floor.  _

__ _ “Say it!”  _

__ __ _ “I’m a failure.” he mumbles. _

__ _ “Say it so I can hear it. Loud and clear.” _

__ __ _ “I’m a fa-” he starts but it’s too late.  He actually fucking starts to cry. Tears stream down his face. He can’t look at himself. He can’t meet his own eyes, take in his fat, snot-choked face, look at his body. He hopes it’s enough, he hopes that he’s done enough to satisfy him. He dreads what Mustang is going to say. He hopes. He begs. He prays. _

__ _ “Say it..” _

_ He can’t. He just can’t. Mustang raises an arm to ignite him and Envy lurches his head up. His hair’s in his eyes, his headband’s falling off, he’s so pathetic. _

_ “I’m a failure. I’m a failure, I’m a FUCKING FAILURE.” he screams at his putrid, pathetic reflection. The words feel like jolts of electricity coursing through him. But Gods, they’re getting him turned on.  _

_ “You’re crying, but I can sense how wet you are.” says Mustang. “It makes sense that you’re like this, it really does. Okay, if you need release  _ that _ badly, do it in front of the mirror. If you touch your snatch even once without looking at yourself I promise you, you’ll burn, just like Lust. Also,” he says You could take any form you want and you take this one when you attempted to toy with me?” _

__ __ _ “Do you want me to answer you, Sir?” he manages to get out between sniffs. He looks at his belly as he strokes his burning crotch. _

__ _ “Yes, Envy, I do. Why do you choose that?” he nods in the direction of where Envy’s hand is damn near jackhammering. _

__ __ _ “That’s not just for you, Sir.” _

_ He smirks. “You just want to get railed then, and that’s more convenient?” _

__ __ _ “Y-yes Sir.” he has to take time not to slur his words. _

_  He can feel sweat from his fat thighs mixing with vag juice on the floor, making his seated position more and more precarious. He’s close. He can see Mustang’s grinning reflection off to one side. That bastard, Envy’ll not give him the satisfaction. As he teeters on the edge of orgasm, his ass cheeks tensing up, his tongue out, his eyes tight shut, Mustang just says one word. _

__ _ “Stop.” _

_ Envy stops.  _

__ _ “Lie down.” _

_ Envy lies down. _

__ _ “Tell me, do you have any lambskins here?” _

__ __ _ “T-there should be one in my pocket.” _

_ Mustang puts his boot on Envy’s back as he searches his pockets, making sure to feel up his ass and thighs. There is one.  Envy dutifully helps Mustang out of his trousers. He’s wearing navy striped boxers underneath and it takes quite a bit of effort for Envy not to call him a sailor boy. He gives Mustang’s member a teasing, fleeting suck, before slipping the condom on. Envy gets back on the rough, sawdusty floor, and can just about see his face in the mirror.  _

_ Behind him, Mustang kneels, and holding his bountiful hips in place with  his forearms, presses his cock between Envy’s ass cheeks. The hot rod makes Envy buckle. Oh Gods he wants it. Oh, please, please fuck me, he thinks. _

__ _ “Can you give me some lubrication back here?” _

__ __ _ “Haha, yessir.” says Envy. He  spits on his hand, passes it on back. Envy squeezes his cock with his cheeks and the Flame Alchemist grinds against  _ him _ , now. Now he has the famous Colonel Mustang, veteran of the Ishtavan war, rubbing against his body. It’s some praise, Envy has to admit. But oh, he wants it  _ inside _. He wants Mustang inside him. He can’t think about anything else, and each time his cock slides past Envy’s asshole, he wants to yell. He takes a glance at himself in the mirror, and he’s even more far gone. His headband is somewhere else. His hair is in all directions. Drool covers his chin. His eyes are fluttering open and closed in time with Mustang’s thrusts. _

__ __ _ “Please, sir,” says Envy, “Please fuck me, Gods, I need it, please, I can’t hold on any longer.” _

__ _ “Well, if you insist.” _

_ After one last achingly slow thrust, he coaxes Envy into sticking his ass up. All Mustang has to do is slide his cock down.  _

 

At fucking last, Envy can do it. He jams the false tool into himself and his toes curl and eyes roll and body shudders and God, fuck that was…

 

_ Who knew that the Fire Alchemist would be such a rough lover? Envy can’t think. The thoughts are being fucked out of his head. If anyone asked him to speak, incoherent noises would leave his usually so smug mouth rather than words. He’s just going, and going. He almost wishes that he’d not hurt the poor boy’s wrists or otherwise he’d be able to slap his ass or squeeze his sides or...he doesn’t notice the headlock until it’s already too late and Mustang’s biceps are tightening around his neck. He really is a stallion, Envy thinks, laughing to himself at the dumb joke, while the man lays into him,  paying him back for each and every indiscretion, humiliation and cruelty that Envy’s caused. Each new jolt, each thrust makes him moan louder. He can only catch glimpses of himself in the mirror but what he does see is someone in the depths of rapture. Simultaneously, Mustang ups his pace and gradually starts to put pressure against Envy’s neck. The dual stimulation of the cock inside him and being slowly choked is almost too much for him.  _

__ _ “You really are a massive slut. Not anyone gets fucked by his supposed hostage.” _

_ The strokes started out as slow, shallow ones. These are faster. _

__ _ “You must’ve chosen me on purpose, so you could lose like this.” _

_ Mustang fucks him to the hilt and Envy cries out. _

__ _ “Or is this what you think victory is? Where your opponent sticks his dick inside you after you’ve finished humiliating yourself?” _

_ Mustang goes into some frenzy, hammering his hips against Envy’s, choking him hard, biting his neck, calling him a whore until both of them are incoherent, savage, Mustang all the way inside him when three things happen.  _

 

_ First,  Mustang comes. Envy imagines the condom blooming full of hot, sticky semen. He can feel its intense warmth -- Mustang  _ is _ the Fire Alchemist after all -- through the lambskin. That sets Envy off and he comes also. The third thing that happens is that Envy passes the fuck out _ . 

 

Envy awakes, hours later, the wine bottle smashed on the floor by a flurrying leg, his arm still buzzing and aching, the false tool still inside him, and a big dumb grin on his face.

**Author's Note:**

> this is for lilbirb.  
> thank you also to spectrumarcadia for reading this.


End file.
